


at night we name every star

by Rhovanel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Multi, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 02:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhovanel/pseuds/Rhovanel
Summary: Merrill finds her sea legs.





	at night we name every star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Merrill stands by the railing of the ship, watching the sea churn below. She’s been on board the ship for more than a week, but everything still feels strange. The sea is endless and placeless, and she feels as though she’s been cast adrift on the surface of the world.

She thinks back to that night ten days ago, when Isabela had sauntered into the Hanged Man looking exceedingly pleased with herself.

Hawke sized her up with a glance. “Well?” she asked with her usual brand of directness. It was one of the things Merrill loved about Makoa - she always said exactly what she meant. You always knew exactly where you stood with her.

Isabela reached across and swiftly stole Hawke’s drink, taking a long sip.

“Spit it out,” Hawke said. “NOT my drink,” she hastily added, as Isabela raised her eyebrows. “I paid for that.”

“How would you like to never pay for anything ever again?” Isabela smiled.

Hawke narrowed her eyes. “I’m listening,” she said.

“Have you heard of the Madrigal?”

“The Antivan trade ship?” Merrill asked. She knew nothing of trade routes or ships, but even she had heard of the Madrigal.

“That’s the one,” Isabela replied with a smile. “The very same one that is currently missing its captain log, its trade papers, and its route chart.”

“No!” Hawke gasped.

“Oh yes,” Isabela laughed.

“Isabela, how did you…”

“Ah, now that would be telling, and I never do that.”

“Alright,” Hawke replied. “So where’s it going?”

Isabela reached across to the fireplace, but Merrill smacked her hand away. “Isabela!” she exclaimed. She gently sent a curl of ice towards one of the nearest coals, cooling it thoroughly before handing it over to Isabela. “You know you have to let me cool it first.”

Isabela simply grabbed the charcoal and started drawing a map on the table. “But I do love playing with fire.”

“Oh, we know,” Hawke groaned. She exchanged a smile with Merrill over the top of Isabela’s head.

“Right,” Isabela said. “It’s currently making its way out of Rialto Bay, and should be somewhere in the Amaranthine Ocean in three weeks time. From here, with good wind and a bit of luck, we should be able to catch it.”

She flung the charcoal down triumphantly. 

“How about it, my loves? Shall we play pirate?”

Hawke pushed her chair back and swept Isabela up into an embrace, swinging her around with a laugh.

“What about you, kitten?”

Merrill frowned. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “All that drinking, and fighting, and scheming - a pirate’s life sounds terribly exhausting.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “Merrill, what else do you think we do all day in Kirkwall?”

“Oh,” Merrill replied. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’ll buy you a new hat,” Isabela said. “We can’t have the harsh sun destroying that beautiful skin, now, can we?” She stepped out of Hawke’s embrace and planted a kiss on Merrill’s cheek.

Merrill had smiled, but she couldn’t quite quell the feeling of anxiety churning in her gut. The sea was so _foreign_ \- all that ocean, all that sky, no trees or earth or green growing things anywhere to be seen.

Even now, on the ship, she still feels uncertain and out of place. She’s learning how to pull her weight - how to tie knots, how to help hoist the sails. She’s learning to love the feel of the wind running through her hair, of the salt spray against her face.

But more than anything, she loves watching Hawke and Isabela as they confidently roam up and down the deck. They look at home on the open seas, windswept and sunburnt and laughing. They’re daring and dauntless, confident and cocky, and they gleefully plan what they’ll do with the riches they’ll find on the Madrigal.

She can never resist that look that Isabela and Hawke get in their eyes sometimes: a wild-eyed excitement that promises her that adventure lies just around the corner. Merrill can’t help but feel dull and small in comparison. But though she’ll never quite understand why, they love her anyway.

*******

“Merrill!” Hawke calls one afternoon. “Come here, I have something for you!”

Merrill had been sitting quietly against the bulwarks, reading one of the volumes she brought with her. Or at least, she’d been trying to read. Her attention was mainly focused on Hawke.

She loves watching Hawke work, whether she’s fighting bandits or picking locks. Her body is expressive where her speech is taciturn, as though she feels more comfortable speaking in a more corporeal form of communication. She moves with confident grace and excellent posture. It’s almost as if she has her own private well of gravity, keeping her steady and grounded.

Merrill loves her for it.

She curiously crosses the deck to see Hawke holding a brightly coloured object. It looks like a pink dandelion. Hawke unceremoniously drops it into her hands.

“Oh!” Merrill cries with surprise, as it begins to move in her hands.

“I thought you’d like it,” Hawke said with a smile.

“You thought she’d like a slimy sea creature? Charming, Hawke,” Isabela calls from the other side of the deck.

“No one asked you,” Hawke says curtly.

“Oh, but I do!” Merrill cries, delightedly watching the small creature pulse in her hands.

Hawke smiles. “It’s an anemone,” she says. “We pull them up in our nets sometimes.”

Merrill walks to the side of the ship, and gently lowers it back into the water.

“There’s a whole world down there,” she says softly. “So much life.”

Hawke approaches quietly behind her, slipping her arms around her waist. “Not so different,” she says softly, kissing her gently on the neck before stepping away to berate one of the crew for their lazy knots.

Merrill watches the smooth, glassy surface of the water. She thinks of waves of wind through trees, and the pulses of dandelions in the breeze. “No,” she says to herself, “I suppose not.”

*******

At night, Merrill likes to lie quietly on the foredeck, watching the stars above her. The familiar constellations help soothe her sense of disorientation.

Isabela ambles over, settling herself down beside her. Merrill has always loved watching her walk - those swinging hips, that confident saunter. But seeing her move across the deck of her ship is a whole new pleasure. She walks like she has the sea in her blood, like she’ll always find her feet no matter how the ground shifts beneath her.

Merrill loves her for it.

“What are you doing, kitten?” Isabela asks, gently stroking her arm.

“Watching the stars,” Merrill replies. “That’s The Oak,” she says with a gesture. “It represents Andruil, and the _Vir Tanadhal_.”

“Go on,” Isabela says, “You know how I love your stories.”

She senses Hawke approach quietly behind them as she begins to speak. “The _Vir Tanadhal_ is the Dalish philosophy of the hunt - a rough translation would be ‘the way of the Three Trees’. We have the way of the arrow, the bow, and the forest.”

“Hmmm,” Isabela murmurs. “Poetic.”

“What does each way mean?” Hawke asks.

“To fly straight without hesitation, to bend but never break, and to receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness.”

“A good philosophy,” Hawke says. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Isabela says. “The best things always come in threes, don’t you think?”

Hawke snorts and moves off further down the deck.

They’re quiet for a time, watching the stars.

“You know, it reminds me of the code of the high seas,” Isabela says suddenly.

Merrill shifts so she can see her face. “Really?”

Isabela murmurs an assent. “To stay true to your course, to ride with the waves, and to take what bounty you can.”

“I’m not sure that last one quite translates,” Merrill replies.

“Maybe I’m not doing it justice,” Isabela says with a laugh. “But I don’t know - it’s not so different, in the end.”

Merrill watches the constellations flicker gently in the sky. She thinks of the bow of a ship cutting through the water, and the bow of a hunter slicing through the trees. She thinks of moving with the forest, and rolling with the waves. 

“No,” she says, reaching out to take Isabela’s hand. “I suppose not.”

*******

Two weeks into their journey, a call from the lookout announces the arrival of the Madrigal on the horizon. The ship is buzzing with excitement and activity, and the crew races about, pulling ropes and shifting sails.

Merrill stands to one side, feeling slightly useless. She can see anxiety in the curve of Hawke’s shoulders, and approaches her quietly.

“What’s wrong, Makoa?” she asks gently.

“They have the wind,” Hawke replies, her face set in a stern frown. “We won’t catch them.”

Merrill stares into the horizon. 

“Yes,” she says firmly. “We will.”

She raises her hands. She reaches up into the sky, and down in the sea. She grasps the force of the atmosphere and the life of the seabed. Clouds start building rapidly on the horizon, the wind fills their sails, and the sea begins to churn beneath them.

“Merrill,” Isabela calls, her voice tight with anxiety. “What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me?” Merrill has to shout to be heard over the wind, which is beginning to howl.

“What?” Isabela shouts back.

“Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Hawke says, coming to stand just behind her left shoulder.

“Always,” Isabela repeats, from somewhere behind her right.

Merrill flings her hands apart and unleashes the power of the tempest. Lightning begins to stab down into the ocean.

“ _Vir Assan_ ,” she says, as the wind drives them towards the Madrigal. “To stay true to your course.”

“ _Vir Bor'assan_ ,” she shouts, as the ship lurches across the roiling sea. “To ride with the waves.”

“ _Vir Adahlen!_ ” she cries. “And to take what bounty you can!”

A stab of lighting hits the mast of the Madrigal with a dramatic crash. 

Merrill lowers her hands, breathing heavily, as the ship pulls up alongside the Madrigal. The Antivan sailors are panicked, and Hawke leads the charge to board the ship.

Even through her exhaustion, Merrill’s heart leaps to watch Hawke and Isabela fight. They both wield a knife in each hand, Isabela twisting gracefully through the throng of bodies on the ship, Hawke ducking and leaping with confidence.

They always find their feet.

By the time the Antivans are bound and sitting quietly in the bay of the ship, the clouds have dissipated and the sun is shining once more.

“Well, would you look at that,” Isabela says with a smile. “We didn’t even need to raise the black.”

“Of course we didn’t,” Hawke replies, brusque as ever. “We’ve got Merrill.”

“Ah, kitten,” Isabela laughs. “There’s a pirate queen in you after all.”

“I don’t know if I want to be a queen,” Merrill frowns. “Far too much responsibility. Maybe a pirate scholar? Or a steward?”

Isabela throws back her head and laughs uproariously. “Well, my pirate scholar,” she says, “shall we go and see about your reward?”

“Yes,” Merrill says, “I think I’ve earned it.”

Hawke and Isabela both laugh with delight, and she lets them lead her across to the deck of the trade vessel.

But she watches them together, their skin shining copper and mahogany in the sunlight, and she thinks that she has all the treasure she’ll ever need right here.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a treat for [xoxo666](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xoxo666) for the Black Emporium rare pair exchange. They asked for a pirate/seafaring story, which is a genre I adore, and am particularly excited about for this pairing. Basically, I watched too much Black Sails and this happened. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> xoxo666 also said they liked hearing about other people's Hawkes, so I've used my own Hawke, Makoa, who's an aggressive rogue (and who did romance Isabela but would have happily brought Merrill into the relationship too, so thank you for making my dreams come true).
> 
> The title of this fic comes from 'We Know the Way' from _Moana_.


End file.
